The monsters were twisted amalgamations of man and beast. Zander, armored in purple meladonite and a cloak of crimson and azure, faced them in an endless void of darkness. His great meladonite claymore gleamed crimson with the blood of his foes as he struck them down one by one. They kept coming, relentless, until he faced a three-headed, silver-eyed abomination, part lion, part snake, part ram.
The Chimaera, whispered a young woman. Zander had heard that voice many times in his dreams. It was the loveliest sound in the world.
As Zander fought the Chimaera, the sunrise stretched along the horizon’s edge, more beautiful than ever before. The sweetest melody played for the whole world to hear, with voices joining in harmony—some familiar, others unknown. Zander added his voice to theirs, and suddenly, it felt like they were singing with one unified voice, a voice he knew as well as his own. As the darkness shattered, a towering tree emerged, reaching beyond the clouds, its branches heavy with every fruit and flower imaginable. The one voice sang, clear and resounding: “I am Peace.”
Zander didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t want to lose the warmth of that melody. But fate decreed he must arise.
He groaned as his mind reoriented to the real world. His body was stiff from sleeping on the hard ground, and his leg throbbed where the giant wolf had torn into him. Despite Alfread’s medical care last night, the ache remained. Kenneth’s snores echoed through the misty morning, so loud they could shake a tree. Zander scowled at the fading fire. The damp mist had soaked everything, making it a miserable task to reignite the flames. Patience had never been his strong suit, especially when sore, hungry, and tired of listening to Kenneth’s obnoxious snoring.
By the time the fire spat to life, Zander was already muttering curses under his breath. Grumbling, he turned to skinning the wolves. He would leave one trophy for Gidi, and wolf pelts were always worth something at the Skirts. The meat, coarse as it was, would do for breakfast. His mood was no better by the time he had slabs of wolf steaks cooking over the fire.
With the fire crackling and his chores done, Zander decided to wash the grime from his body. The pond nearby was freezing, but he waded in with a grimace, the cold biting at his skin. Zander fought the urge to shriek like a small child on Reaping when he submerged past his cock. He saw a few circles, shivering until his body adjusted to the temperature.
Then something brushed against his arm. “Balbaraq’s bloody flogging balls!” he cursed, scrambling out of the pond. He ran naked through the clearing, swatting at the leeches, cursing such that no god, save for Leverith, was above his reproach.
Kenneth continued snoring like a saw, but Alfread shot to his feet. The son-of-a-lovely-woman looked impeccable rising from his slumber with a half-laugh, half-yawn.
“Hold still.” Alfread chuckled. “I’ll liberate you.”
Several painstaking degrees later, Zander sat by the fire, leech-free and gnawing on a tough piece of wolf meat.
“At least none of them bit my member,” Zander muttered, taking another gamey bite.
“Not enough blood in tha’ lil’ thing, I ‘erd,” came a raspy voice from across the fire.
Zander looked over to see Kenneth awake, grinning. Alfread erupted in laughter.
“Plow you,” Zander retorted, grinning just as broadly as Kenneth. “Why do you think the lasses always come back for more?”
Kenneth turned to Alfread, eyes twinkling. “Ye hear tha’, Al? He wants to plow us now.”
Alfread smirked. “Seems like he’s only interested in plowing you, Kenneth.”
Zander couldn’t help but laugh along with them. It was good to see Alfread back to his witty self today and Kenneth japing. Life went on, even after you fought magical wolves and nearly died. He tossed two steaks to Alfread, then dangled the last piece over Kenneth’s head.
“No steak fer ye,” he teased, keeping it just out of reach.
“Sorry! I’ll be a good boy! I promise!” His eyes caught sight of the butchered alpha wolf. “Ye butchered my kill? Ye better gimme some, ye floggin’ poacher.”
Zander lowered the steak toward Kenneth’s hand, only to yank it back at the last turn. “Where are your manners, Kenneth?”
Kenneth sighed. “Zander, good brother, kind man, hon’rable squire, conq’ror o’ tavern wenchies, poacher o’ big-arse wolves, may I please ‘ave my steak?”
Zander lowered it again, teasingly pulling it away once more. Kenneth groaned, rubbing his temples. “I ‘pologize fer callin’ yer member small. I’m sure it’s twice as big as the bigges’ member the Sapphire Kingdom has e’er beheld.”
Grinning, Zander finally let Kenneth take the steak. “See what good manners get you?”
Alfread snorted. “I suspect chicanery.”
Kenneth smirked, biting into the meat. “I tricked ye! Twice as big as the bigges’ Sapphire member still means ye ‘ave the smallest in the Ruby by half.”
The three of them burst into laughter. Zander’s laugh came loudest of all. Light entered the canopy, dispersing the mist. Sadly, Zander couldn’t see the sunrise this morning.
The journey back to Bear’s Crossing was a slow and laborious one. Though Kenneth hid his pain well, Alfread kept calling for halts to check on his injuries.
By the time they reached Bear’s Crossing, dinner bells were ringing. Zander and Alfread left Kenneth in the care of his sister Joyce. She was The Bald Bear’s most popular maid, as charismatic and beautiful as her brother was crude and homely. The two despised each other, and they made this known at every opportunity. Kenneth, in his infinite charm, greeted her as “the bitch” and encouraged her to go back to the tavern and do the one thing she was good for. This, of course, earned him a retort about how she wished Zander had left the bastard to die in the woods with the other animals.
They were half of the family they had left, but the scars of old wounds went deep and festered. Kenneth had followed Zander since they were little boys, and Joyce had been his first and, by far, most frequent tribute partner. He’d held her deep into the night as she cried about her mother’s suicide, listening and comforting her as a fellow orphan. Zander understood her pain, understood why she blamed Kenneth for their mother’s death. But Kenneth had been barely more than a baby when it happened—blaming him wasn’t fair. Zander also understood the bitterness that festered in his friend because of Joyce’s inability to let go of her resentment. Were he lucky enough to have a sister, he couldn’t imagine being as cruel as they were to each other. He loved them both, which only made his helplessness to stop their hatred from fermenting even more agonizing.
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Zander pulled Joyce aside, allowing Alfread to tend to Kenneth’s leg and administer a tonic that soon had him snoring. Alfread tactfully excused himself, returning to Sir Evan’s manor to check on Melissa and Marigold.
Alone with Joyce, Zander didn’t resist as she pulled him close, her kisses urgent and hands hungry. The tonic must’ve been strong, because Zander didn’t restrain himself and neither did she. Tangled in bed with her, he couldn’t help but marvel that a woman so beautiful hadn’t bonded yet. She’d turned down several suitors, and Zander found himself grateful for that several times a span.
When it was over, Joyce clung to him, begging him to stay. He kissed her tenderly, reassured her with sweet words, but she only pleaded more. Zander couldn’t stay for dinner or share the night with her, and she couldn’t understand why he needed to speak with Sir Edward or check on Melissa and Marigold. Despite his best efforts, he had to peel her off and leave her crying.
Zander pushed it away, assuring himself he did nothing wrong, and headed for Sir Edward’s cabin. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the scent of bacon greeted him as he knocked on the door. Inside, the knight’s home was as neat and orderly as always, the remnants of his estranged wife’s belongings still meticulously sorted despite her living in Rubinia the past fifteen years. At the spit, cooking the evening meal, was Jayne—Kenneth’s other sister. Unlike Joyce, Jayne was soft-spoken, with a plain face but a gentle presence that Zander found endearing.
“Greetings, Jayne,” Zander said with a smile.
Jayne’s shy smile was sweet, and her stuttering voice was barely above a whisper as she asked Sir Edward if she should make another plate for Zander.
“Please do, Jayne,” Sir Edward replied, eyeing Zander suspiciously. “Zander and I have much to discuss.”
As Jayne slipped into the back to fetch more bacon, Zander recounted his encounter with Sir Otis. He told Sir Edward of the abuse Otis had inflicted on his nieces and how he’d chosen to intervene, carefully leaving out the details about Alfread stopping him from killing the oathbreaker.
“Meladon smiles upon your judgment,” Edward said. “As do I. I’m impressed with your decision to spare Sir Otis’s life. War changes men, Zander. Otis wasn’t always like this. After losing his brother in Mirrevar, something inside him broke. When news reached Mirrevar of his sister-in-law’s death, I encouraged him to watch over his nieces. He didn’t believe he could do it, but I thought it a chance for him to make meaning out of his misery and pain. Instead, it seems he passed his suffering to those little girls.”
A heavy guilt settled over Zander. He never stopped to consider Otis’s story. That did not excuse him trying to pull Melissa and Marigold down with him, but the explanation turned him from a vile monster into a broken human.
Sir Edward continued, “You did well, Zander. It’s easy to forget that justice isn’t always found at the end of a sword. It takes a hero to show mercy in the shadow of dark deeds, to see the good beneath the darkness of a man’s soul. Remember that. True heroes, like Philladon Leveria, inspire those around him to be the best versions of themselves. They lift others up, nurturing the light until it overcomes the darkness.”
Zander lowered his gaze, haunted by his lie. Feeling unworthy of the praise that belonged to Alfread.
Jayne interrupted. The bacon sandwich she offered Sir Edward made her more appetizing. She returned Zander’s compliment with flushed cheeks. He ogled her arse as she went back to fix his.
“The wolves, boy,” Edward said, sharp as a sword.
Sir Edward grew tense when Zander described the battle, particularly his ward’s injuries. Kenneth, Joyce, and Jayne weren’t his only wards, but Zander loved Edward for taking care of them after their mother opted to leap off Old Iron.
Jayne delivered and Zander paused to bite into his bacon sandwich, not even minding the lettuce and tomato. The flavors exploded on his tongue, and he wondered how the cook would taste when she exploded on him. He wondered how Kenneth would react and decided this venture ought to be pursued. “You are a true culinary master, pretty girl,” Zander said, winking at Jayne and giving her his best smile. She didn’t look plain now, glowing from his praise.
“The wolves, Zander!” Edward snapped.
Old squirrel’s just mad that he never feels a woman’s love, Zander thought with a sour taste that ill-fit the sandwich.
To Zander’s surprise Edward neither laughed nor reprimanded Zander when he said that Alfread thought the wolves might’ve been human.
“Alfread is wise,” Edward said. “There’s much in this world we don’t understand. Report this to Archlord Bearbreaker and offer your service to him. His court witch may shed light on these oddities.”
Years of training built to this moment. He was going to become a true member of the Peacewatch, and the next step of his journey would take him closer to understanding the threat posed by the shaded man with the silver eyes. He couldn’t restrain his elation.
“I won’t let you down, Sir. I’ll head to Urzport tonight!”
Edward waved off his haste. “Easy, boy. The morning will serve you better. And take Paladin with you—a gift for all your hard work over the years.”
Zander was speechless for several turns. Paladin was a valuable warhorse, worth more coin than he’d probably ever held. “Thank you, Sir! I’ll make you proud.”
After a firm handshake and some words of wisdom, Zander left, his mind buzzing with dreams of glory.
Sir Edward shouted after him, “Remember what it means to be a hero. You’re one of the few people with the potential to make a difference in this woeful world.”
“Yes, Sir!” Zander hollowed, dashing off toward Old Iron.
He didn’t realize he left Paladin behind until his feet hit the old rusty monstrosity.
Breathless, Zander returned to Edward’s stables, only to find Jayne tending to the horses. Her shy smile met his. In a few whispered words and gentle touches, he found himself entwined with her in the hay. She was inexperienced, and he knew from his experience that his love needed to be slow and tender. She was breathless when they finished. Zander kissed her, ran his fingers through her hair, down her body, letting her know that she was beautiful all the way through. Jayne’s contented smile followed him out of the stable and into the night.
The air outside felt fresher after a tender romp in the stable. Zander walked away feeling like he’d not only pleased Leverith but helped Jayne find a bit more confidence in herself. There was a giddy spring in his step as he brushed Paladin’s silver-white mane. “We’re going to take care of each other and have many great adventures,” he murmured to the mighty destrier. “The bards will sing our adventures for centuries.” Paladin neighed softly, nudging Zander’s shoulder with surprising gentleness for such a powerful, battle-trained beast.
As the sun sank beneath the horizon, painting the sky with fiery streaks, Zander rode to the temple. The scent of candles and incense welcomed him as he stepped inside. A few worshippers knelt in prayer. He exchanged a nod with the priestess, bowing slightly before the temple’s leader sent a handmaiden to him. She offered him a nirathra leaf, which he accepted, chewing on the stem.
Zander thanked her for the contraceptive and turned down her invitation to make tribute to Leverith. She was a bit younger than he preferred, and besides, he was spent. Leverith couldn’t expect him to lay with every willing woman, could she? With his reputation, he’d hardly have time for anything else.
He turned his focus to the altars, offering his gratitude to Meladon, then a wolf pelt to Gidi. Lastly, he knelt before Leverith’s shrine. His heart grew heavy, emotions knotted together, tangled like vines from separate trees entwined over time. “Leverith, Divine Goddess of Love and Dreams, I thank you for family—for Alfread, Mirielda, and Evan. Because of you, they opened their hearts and home to me. Because of them, I am strong. Because of them, I still sing your loving song. Tomorrow, I leave them behind.”
Zander swallowed, tears quietly falling down his cheeks. He carried on. “Give Alfread the strength to be his own man, guide him to the love he needs and deserves; even though he doesn’t offer tribute to you, he has so much to offer to the people he loves.”
Zander’s fingers clutched the locket around his neck. “Please guide me to my own love, to my Sunrise.”